


All I Ask of You

by makototouchmybanana



Category: Haikyuu!!, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Childhood Friends, Hurt/Comfort, I re watched phantom of the opera and couldnt get this au out of my head so here we are, Iwaizumi is Raoul, M/M, Oikawa is Christine, Paris (City), Ushijima is the phantom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makototouchmybanana/pseuds/makototouchmybanana
Summary: He had changed with age, but Hajime could still recognize that voice, that determined look, that proud quirk of the lips anywhere.Could it be Tooru?-Phantom of the Opera IwaOi AU
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently in quarantine thanks to the good old corona virus, so this is what I'm doing with my time.  
> Raoul's character might be tweaked a little bit from the stage show, because lets be real that man is a little bit on the bland side lmao and I want this interpretation to focus more on him and Oikawa/Christine than Ushijima/the phantom (sorry Ushijima).   
> Hope you enjoy! Stay healthy!

Hajime’s automobile pulled up to the old opera house with a stuttering halt. Once full of life and color, the place seemed dull now, muted under gray skies that never seemed to clear. Everything that had happened there all those years ago seemed like a dream. Or rather, some sort of hellish nightmare. 

With some difficulty, Hajime’s nurse and driver helped him from his seat into his wheelchair. They tucked his frail legs into the wooden foot rest, and off they went. 

The inside of the theater wasn’t in any better shape than the outside. A layer of dust and cobwebs covered every surface, the lights so dim everything seemed to be in black and white. A scattered group of people stood around a make-shift podium, where an auctioneer was selling a poster for the theater’s production of Hannibal. 

Up next was a strange little music box. On top of it sat a monkey in Persian robes, holding cymbals that tapped to the beat of its haunting tune. 

Just like Tooru had described. 

Hajime wondered if the music box would still be playing when the rest of them were dead. 

He immediately signaled to his nurse to raise her hand, offering twenty francs for the music box. 

“Twenty? Very good sir. Do I hear twenty-five?”

Before Hajime could respond, a woman standing across the stage raised her hand. Their eyes locked for a moment, widening in recognition of the other. Stray orange wisps colored her otherwise-white hair, but other than that she didn’t seem to have aged a day since Hajime had last seen her. She seemed other-worldly, all-knowing, even more so than she had back in the day. 

But still, Hajime would be damned if she beat him to one of the last things that could remind him of his late husband. 

At thirty-five francs, he won the bid. As they were leaving, he heard the auctioneer announce the last object- lot 666, a broken chandelier.


	2. Think of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember, stop and think of me.

The opera house was bustling with excitement as everyone prepared for the opening night of Hannibal. Actors and actresses were spread throughout every corner, practicing their songs and dances, cramming themselves into their costumes, and hastily applying dramatic amounts of makeup. Dust filled the air of the basement as the set makers made the final adjustments to their masterpieces. The great wooden cogs churned, a complex rope and pulley system controlling every curtain and set piece. 

“Tooru! There you are!” Shoyo popped out from behind the make-shift staircase that Tooru had hid himself under. He offered his hand for the other to take. “Mother is starting warm-ups soon.”

Tooru stuck out his lower lip in protest. He had been watching the opera house’s lead singer, Koutarou Bokuto, practice the opening number for tonight’s showing. There was no doubt of his talent. Every note was met beautifully, held out with a strong vibrato that matched the intensity of the singer’s own personality. To say he could be a bit of a diva was an understatement. Tooru marveled at how Ikkei Ukai,the opera house’s director, managed to keep his moods under control. 

He sighed. “Let’s go then.” 

Tooru took Shoyo’s hand and the two of them hurried to the other side of the stage, weaving in and out of stray actors and props. They took their places among the other dancers. Madame Hinata raised an eyebrow at her son and his friend, but began directing her students without a word as the background singers marched onto stage, backing up Koutarou’s vocals. Tooru stifled a giggle when he heard the lead singer complain about his robes being too long. 

Suddenly, Ikkei Ukai walked on stage with two other older men that Tooru didn’t recognize. The orchestral director cut off the music, and the rehearsal came to a halt. 

“Who is that?” Shoyo whispered.

“How would I know?” Tooru replied, eyes squinting to focus on the scene in front of them. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I interrupt for a moment.” Ikkei Ukai glanced around the theater, making sure he had everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure you have all heard of the rumors regarding my retirement, and I have come to tell you that they are all true.”

“Ah-ha!” came the response from Koutarou. 

“So, I would like to introduce you to the gentlemen who now own this opera house- Monsieur Keishin Ukai, no relation, and Monsieur Ittetsu Takeda. Please regard them as you would me. Thank you.” 

The theater gave a respectful round of applause. 

“And it is our pleasure to introduce you to our new patron,” the shorter man with glasses announced, “Hajime Iwaizumi. We’re not sure how we managed to get him, but we are glad that he’s here.” 

Tooru’s eyes grew wide at the name. Another man, younger than the other two, with short dark hair and a built frame walked onto stage, giving a polite bow. Broken memories immediately began to flood Tooru’s head. Another set of hands in his, swaying back and forth childishly as his father played violin. Laying on his stomach watching ants crawl in and out of their hill. Roughhousing while water lapped at their ankles, a harsh salty spray whipping their hair every which way. 

A kiss on the cheek and a promise that they would see each other again someday.

Tooru reached over and clutched at Shoyo’s arm. 

“Shoyo, that’s Hajime, the one I told you about. We knew each other when my father was alive and we lived in that house by the sea. We were childhood sweethearts, I suppose.” He smiled, a blush rising to his cheeks.. 

Shoyo’s mouth opened in an excited little “o” shape. “Amazing! You should go talk to him!” He started to tug Tooru forward. 

“No, no.” Tooru dug his heels into the floor. “I doubt he’d recognize me now. It's been years.” 

Shoyo frowned in disappointment, but didn’t push the matter any further. 

“Thank you for having me.” Hajime greeted. His voice had become deeper with age, but Tooru could still pick out the familiar warm tone. “I am honored for this opportunity to support the arts, and I apologize for interrupting rehearsal. I will return later tonight to congratulate you all on a show well done.” 

Hajime disappeared, and before Tooru could fully process what had happened, he and the other dancers were ushered onto stage to join rehearsal. Takeda and Ukai looked on appreciatively as Madame Hinata discussed her dancers’ backgrounds with them. 

As the number ended, a dejected sigh came from Koutarou’s mouth. 

Tooru repressed a groan. Here we go. 

“They didn’t come in time to see my solo! Now all they care about is the dancers.” Koutarou sulked, shuffling off stage dejectedly. “Why am I even here?” 

Takeda and Ukai shared a frightened look before scrambling over to Koutarou to try and talk him out of leaving. 

Tooru watched from the sidelines with Shoyo and the rest of the dancers, an amused grin playing on his lips at the all-too-familiar scenario. “Do you think he’ll actually leave this time?” 

Shoyo lightly kicked the other’s shin. “Don’t be mean, Tooru.”

“Says the one who kicked me!” he whined. 

Eventually, Takeda and Ukai managed to convince Koutarou to stay by asking him to perform the aria from act three for them. A “private performance”, they called it. Tooru scoffed at the obvious pandering, but the singer didn’t seem to notice. Koutarou’s sour mood dissipated, and he once again took center stage, arms confidently raised out to his sides. 

“Think of me  
Think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye  
Remember me once in a while  
Please promise me you’ll try” 

But before Koutarou could even reach the second verse, something snapped above him. 

“Look out!” Shoyo yelled as a chorus of gasps and screams erupted from everyone on stage. Koutarou barely reacted until the heavy banner was nearly on top of him, catching on the edge of his robes and knocking him over in his last-minute attempt to get away. 

Several people rushed to his side. Thankfully, the only thing that seemed to have been hurt was Koutarou’s ego. 

“What the hell was that?” Ukai glared up into the rafters.

“It wasn’t me, sir!” The opera house’s curtain master called out from above. He was an older, rough-looking man, who half the time was drunk off his ass. He seemed sober today though, or at least the incident had temporarily scared the drunkness out of him. “With the Lord as my witness, I was not at my post.” 

“Then who was it?” 

Shoyo’s hands fisted in Tooru’s clothing, eyes wide. “He’s here!” he whispered urgently. “It’s the phantom of the opera!” 

Before Tooru could respond, Koutarou stormed past them, interrupting his train of thought. He pulled Shoyo closer to him in fear the shorter boy might get trampled. 

“For three years, those kinds of things keep happening! And until you can make them stop,” Koutarou gave Ukai and Takeda a pointed look. “I will not be performing!” 

Koutarou turned around with a huff, robes swirling around his body dramatically. Another man with short black hair and a stoic face followed behind him. He looked back to nod apologetically at Ukai and Takeda before following Koutarou out of the theater. 

“He… he will be coming back, won’t he?” Takeda asked the poor orchestral director, who just shrugged. 

“You think so, monsieur?” Madame Hinata approached the two frazzled men. Tooru noticed she had something in her hands- a letter, white envelope sealed with red wax in the shape of a skull. What the hell was that?

“I have a message from the opera ghost.” Madame Hinata waved the letter in front of her.

“Opera ghost?” the men exclaimed in unison.

“Yes.” Madame Hinata opened the letter with delicate hands. Having been close with Shoyo ever since the death of his father, Tooru knew Madame Hinata well and thought of her as a mother. Still, he had no idea how she always remained so calm whenever things like this happened. She had always seemed to know something that everyone else did not. 

“He welcomes you to his opera house, and commands that you continue to leave box five empty for his use. And reminds you that his salary is due.” 

“His salary?!” Ukai fumed.

“Yes, his salary. Perhaps you can afford to pay more than our previous owner, with Hajime Iwaizumi as your patron.” 

“No, absolutely not!” Ukai snatched the letter from Madame Hinata’s hands, giving it a once-over. “Madame, I had planned to announce our new patron at the gala tonight, but it seems we shall have to cancel, since we’ve lost our star!” He ripped the letter in half. 

“Oh, he shouldn’t have done that,” Shoyo mumbled against his fingernails, which he was chewing nervously. 

“There must be some kind of understudy for him,” Takeda offered. 

“There is no understudy for Monsieur Bokuto Koutarou!” Ukai pinched the bridge of his nose. “Takeda, we’re going to have to refund a full house. A full house!” 

“Tooru Oikawa could sing it, sir.” 

Tooru froze. It was true that he could sing, he’d been practicing for a while, but he never thought that he’d be asked to perform for others. Dancing with his Shoyo and the others was one thing, singing all on his own was another. 

Madame Hinata approached him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder with a soft, encouraging smile. “He’s a chorus boy, but he’s been taking lessons from a great teacher.” 

“Great teacher? Who?” Takeda asked. 

“I… don’t know his name, monsieur,” Tooru answered honestly. 

“Let him sing for you, monsieur,” Madame Hinata ushered him to step forward. “He is very well taught.” 

Ukai and Takeda glanced at each other for a moment. “Alright,” Takeda agreed for the both of them. “Come on, then. Don’t be shy.” 

-

Could it be?

Hajime watched the scene in front of him in awe. A boy dressed in flowing white lace stood alone in the center of the stage, pale face bathed in a hauntingly beautiful white light. His voice filled the theater, a vulnerable but strong presence that caught the eye of every single individual in the full house. He had changed with age, but Hajime could still recognize that voice, that determined look, that proud quirk of the lips anywhere. 

Could it be Tooru? 

As the aria came to an end, Hajime took to his feet and joined in on the thunderous round of applause. Those long summer days with Tooru and his Monsieur Oikawa in that house by the sea, it all seemed so long ago. When tragedy had struck their idyllic world, Hajime had made a promise, and although they had both gone on to live their individual lives, he had always felt a small pang of guilt for never returning for the boy he had once loved. 

But, as fate would have it, Tooru was here, fallen from the sky into his hands once more. And Hajime would be damned if he let the opportunity pass. He hurriedly took to the stairs leading out of box five, heart thrumming in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not the best at multi-chaptered works, but hopefully I can keep up with this one. If I don't feel free to come beat me up thank u


	3. Angel of Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here in this room, he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me- he the unseen genius.

Tooru knelt on the cold, stone floor of the opera house chapel. No one had really made use of the small space for a while, except for him, whenever he wanted to honor his lost father. It was a bit eerie, but Tooru paid it no mind. Bathed in the fading sun peering in through the single stain-glass window, he lit a candle and bowed his head, hands folded in his lap. 

Instead of silence, Tooru was met with a faint, familiar voice echoing from the shadows. He squinted, unable to make out what it was saying. A “brava”, maybe?

“Tooru? Tooru! There you are!” 

Tooru snapped out of his trance with a blink. Shoyo stood beaming in the chapel entryway. He bounded down the few stairs and plopped himself down at Tooru’s side. 

“What are you doing here? I was looking everywhere for you! You were..” Shoyo gestured wildly in front of him, scrambling for the right words. “Amazing,” he decided.

Tooru smiled. “Thanks, Shoyo.” 

Shoyo nodded, grinning. “Damn, I wish I knew your secret! Who’s been teaching you? He must be some sort of genius!” 

Tooru’s smile faltered, hazy memories of whispers from unknown places filling his head. 

“Shoyo, there’s something you should know.”

Shoyo cocked his head. “Yes?”

“When your mother first brought me here,” Tooru continued “Whenever I’d come to this chapel to light a candle for my father, I would hear a voice. It would follow me around sometimes, especially at night when everyone else was asleep. I can still hear it now.” 

He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, eyes locked on the candle in front of him, avoiding Shoyo’s concerned gaze. “When my father was dying, he told me I’d be protected by an angel of music.” 

“An angel? Like the angel of your father?” Shoyo shifted in place nervously. He’d never really been one for the ghost stories that the others would tell about the opera house, Tooru knew. But he wasn’t trying to scare his friend. This was his reality.

“Well, do you believe it?” Shoyo asked.

“Who else would it be?” Tooru flung his arms out to his sides. “My father told me an angel would come protect me. He couldn’t find me at first, but…” His gaze drifted up into the rafters, covered by shadow. “Whenever I’m in this room, I can feel him. I know he’s here.”

“Tooru…” Any sliver of humor left in Shoyo’s eyes melted away. He pushed himself to his feet, offering his hand for Tooru to take. “I want to believe you, but all of these stories about angels… it’s not like you.”

Tooru frowned, but took his friend’s hand anyway, allowing him to slowly lead him towards the chapel doors. 

“We’ve been in this opera house for years, and no one else has heard of an angel like that,” Shoyo went on. “Maybe you should get some air.” 

“But it’s true, Shoyo! And my performance tonight proves it.” Tooru’s eyes searched the looming curtains above their heads as the two made their way through the theater, back to the dressing rooms where Tooru should have been. “Someday, he’ll show himself to us. Then you’ll see.” 

Shoyo grasped Tooru’s hand a little tighter. “I’d really prefer it if he didn’t.” 

“He’s always with me, so he-” A sudden chill wracked Tooru’s spine. He sucked in a breath, halted in place. The presence he had been feeling for the past few years- it had to have been his father. He couldn’t think of any other reason an angel would be following him for so long, granting him the gift of music. But still, even in his last moments alive, his father’s presence had never felt this foreboding. 

“Tooru, your hand is so cold.” Shoyo glanced back at his frozen friend. One look at him, and he too stopped in his tracks. “Your face is white too. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Shoyo, I’m frightened,” Tooru said truthfully. 

“Hey hey, don’t be scared.” Shoyo tried to comfort him, but he looked as if he was in need of some comforting as well. “Come on, let’s go to your dressing room. You’ll feel better in there.” 

-

How long has it been since he felt this… nervous?

Hajime clutched the bouquet of flowers to his chest, which he had “borrowed” from Takeda and Ukai while making a hasty retreat from the crowded opera house lobby. The two older men had offered to join him, but he told them that this was something he had to do alone. Not that doing it alone was any better for his nerves. His heart beat faster as he approached the extravagant dressing room doors. He paused, taking a steadying breath.

“Get ahold of yourself, Hajime. It’s just Tooru.”

He had never felt this skittish around Tooru when they were kids. Although his memories had become fogged with age, the strange but not unwelcome sense of peace the other boy brought him had never escaped his grasp. Knowing Tooru was on the other side of those doors now was a lot like coming home after a long journey. Hajime and Tooru had both left to pursue their own lives, to grow as their own individuals, and now their paths happened to cross once more, all these years later. The fear of a gap being driven between after being apart for so long lingered in Hajime’s mind, but he reached forward to give the door a strong knock, anyway. If he backed away now, he would never know.

He opened the doors.

The room was covered in rich, red velvet, and of course tens of bouquets of flowers, all from Tooru’s fans, he was sure. Others were often drawn to his childhood friend’s charismatic nature, much to Hajime’s annoyance. Still, Hajime felt a bit embarrassed, his last-minute offering just a shadow in comparison to the eye-catching blooms scattered around the dressing room. But as soon as he spotted the Tooru, all second thoughts flew out the window.

There, sitting at a grand vanity with a single rose trapped between his fingers, was Tooru. He was still draped in the lace outfit he had worn on stage, and now that he was up close, Hajime could see all the intricacies sewn into the garment, complimenting Tooru’s slim figure. His heart caught in his throat. He thought that his silly little crush from their childhood might have faded by now, but it all came back to strike him tenfold.

Hajime cleared his throat awkwardly, willing the blush that was forming on his cheeks to calm down.

It’s just Tooru. It’s just Tooru.

“Hey, shittykawa.” Hajime grinned around the nickname he’d given Tooru during their childhood. “It’s been a while.”

Tooru’s eyes grew wide. He whipped his head around to face the other, his jaw dropping into a surprised “oh” shape. “Hajime?"

Hajime scratched at the back of his head, a flush creeping up his neck. “Who else would it be? Idiot,” he muttered.

“Hajime!” Tooru repeated with even more enthusiasm. He closed the distance between them in a few short strides, the mysterious rose forgotten in his wake. He threw his arms around Hajime, his hands clutching at the back of his shirt. Since when had the other boy become so tall?

After a moment that felt all too short and like forever at the same time, Tooru stepped back, arms still draped over Hajime’s shoulders. Hajime was glad he wasn’t the only one who was blushing like a teenager anymore. He smirked. It was a good look on Tooru. Cute, even, not that he would admit that out loud.

“All these years and you still couldn’t come up with a better insult? I’m disappointed, Hajime.”

Of course. Typical Tooru, going right back to teasing. Not that Hajime would have it any other way, though. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed their playful banter, just a little.

Hajime rolled his eyes, lifting one hand up from Tooru’s hip to flick him in the forehead, earning a small yelp of pain. Tooru rubbed at the spot with a pout.

“You don’t seem all too disappointed to me.”

“Hm, I suppose so.” Tooru drug his eyes up Hajime’s form, his excited smile melting into something melancholy. “I missed you, Hajime.”

Hajime faltered. Usually he had been the one to bring up something serious between the two of them while they were in one of their play fights. He rubbed circles in Tooru’s hip with his thumb. Time changes people, he supposed. But hopefully not too much.

“I missed you too. Of course I missed you too.”

Hajime’s hands dropped from Tooru’s sides and he took a step back. He adjusted his suit jacket. “Change out of your costume and get something to eat with me. My carriage is waiting outside.”

Tooru frowned, fidgeting in place. “Hajime, there is something you should know. After my father died, I was visited by an angel, I believe. An angel of music.”

Hajime squinted. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. And the angel is very strict, so I don’t know if I can-”

“Tooru, has all this attention gotten to your head already?” Hajime gently tapped his knuckles against Tooru’s forehead. He hated that he had to reach up to do so. “Surely your music teacher can give you a night off. You earned it. Meet me outside the opera house in ten minutes, alright?”

“Hajime, I-”

“Ten minutes! Or I’ll come back and hit you for overworking yourself.” Hajime turned on his heels, flashing Tooru a serious glance. He felt bad for interrupting his friend, but his carriage had been waiting on him for some time. He didn’t want to further inconvenience his driver. Tooru was often his own worst critic, and it seemed like even a night in the spotlight hadn’t driven that insecurity away. No matter, Hajime would be back to build him up like always.

Hajime let the dressing room doors swing shut behind him, unaware of Tooru’s frightened expression begging for him to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, it's been a while! I would give an excuse, but I've been quarantined at home this whole time so I got nothing (besides online college kicking my ass for a few weeks there lmao). I hope everyone who's reading has been doing well, all things considered. remember to wear a mask, wash your hands, stay six feet away from others when getting your groceries, all that good stuff. I'll try to get an update schedule going so I can get this bitch done before school starts in the fall. stay safe babes!
> 
> EDIT: I didn't like how I characterized Iwa the first time I wrote this, so I ended up editing his whole section oop. more explanation in the next chapter notes.


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